Monthly Archives: November 2012

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This is something I’ve been working on for a few years. I thought it was a great idea coming from The Daily Post and have cooked up a little blurb myself. Here goes. Would you want to know more?

“Life goes on without you.” Yes, well, for Myrna, so does war. A warrior born in the blood of battle, Myrna has found herself far away from the likes of conflict. She’s been placed in remission, thanks to her one fatal flaw. The kind of flaw that the Olc and Hellrune have no place for: mercy. Untrusting, and desolate at her fate, little does she now that this abstinence is about to end, in the form of her arch enemy.

She is forced to unite with the man she has learnt to kill, as they travel through the treacherous lands of Talemoc. Their goal? To reach the council she was raised to loathe and to learn the truth of her past; of the deadly secret that had been unknown to her throughout her existence. The secret that had been the puppet to her life. Now only cracking the surface, Myrna will stop at nothing to get her revenge. And she knows just how to serve it: with ice; without mercy.

First, there appears to be a bug going around, (do you hear that buzzing? That’s that darned bug again. Seems to enjoy appearing during the winter months, right? Cursed thing) and with my luck, I’ve caught it. Hurrah! Not. This is my final year at college. I have to work if I am to have even a meagre chance of getting into Universities and finally embarking on my own life. (Like I haven’t been doing that since birth, but you all know what I mean. I hope. Because if you don’t, I won’t be the best at explaining it. I never am. Oopsie…)

Other than random bouts of when I’ve felt somewhat sane (ha!) and healthier, I’ve pretty much been stuck in bed. Last Thursday and yesterday were the only exceptions, pity that I didn’t really have lessons then. Though, in my defense, I have been to classes this week, collecting work and staying in for as long as I could. (Albeit not very long at all.)

So. Last thursday. Golly, what a day! I practically spent the entire time with my best friend who has come home from University for Reading week (I’m curious as to how many of these students actually do the “reading” part and exactly how much it is they read. My guess is minimal. For both.) I had a good time! She arrived earlier than me, and as she sat at the water fountain we were scheduled to meet at, I was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to cry. Tears actually did spill: I’d missed her ever so much. She means so much to me, she always has and no matter where life takes us, she always will.

We started off with Starbucks, (as ever. Actually, we were greeted with this apocalyptic poster first. Not the best start!).

(Say it isn’t so! My life is officially over. In the metaphorical sense. How depressing.)

Anywho, once we overcame that little obstacle, (honestly, I’m insulting it with calling it a “little” obstacle, this one was our signature Starbucks! I have so many memories with it. My first Starbucks experience, my first date, my 18th birthday venue… destroyed. [Insert morose expression here.]) we settled ourselves in our reserve Starbucks located right in the middle of the city centre. A minor consolation.

I started off with having a go at her, (yes, I’m a bad friend. But it was in retaliation to her that I posted “Shattered Glass.” and if you don’t know what I’m talking about, shame on you! Please, grace me with a read! -Actually, don’t. It’s not exactly a pleasant post; very emotional and negative) she complied, apologised and then we were back to chatting away, relaying various anecdotes (hence “tailoring the tapestry”). When it came to leaving, to say we weren’t inclined to go is putting it lightly. She took me shopping as a way of passing the time without me noticing, just so that we could have those few seconds longer. But, finally, a stroke of luck, I was allowed to stay out longer! We were both so happy, we elicited quite a few wary looks thanks to our grins. (At least, I noticed. I don’t think she did. She was too busy noticing the sales. God forbid shopping with that woman, gah! This Christmas, she’s on her own!) We ended up jumping on a random bus too, short of anything else to do. (That rhymed. My hidden talents as a poet are resurfacing at last!) We engaged in a little bit of serious conversation during that interval, which is always nice. Eventually, she really did have to go and that was the end to a beautiful day. Remembering makes miss her just that much more. Sigh.

Cue the bug’s raging control over my immune system, practically the whole week feeling dizzy and being overcome with vertigo. Not fond memories, that’s for sure. If anyone’s curious, it involved a lot of coughing and stomach churning. (Hey, you were the one who was curious, I merely sated that curiosity. [Wink.])

That was, until yesterday, when I graced Starbucks with my presence yet again. (Isn’t Starbucks oh so lucky?) I spent the morning attending my history lesson, (Tudors for the win!) and spending a pleasant time in the company of a close comrade. That friendship is definitely blooming, she’s a wonderful person, always capable of leaving me with an aching abdomen after all the laughter she induces. If we’re being specific, I bought her a drink once, which technically means that we’ve been on a date. (That acknowledgement certainly inspired a strong stint of flirtatious comments. Good gosh, I do love her! [That will probably bring about more dalliance.] It’s nice having friends like this, you should all try it some time.) I had a hot chocolate, which, probably wasn’t the best idea bearing in mind that accursed bug I’ve been infected with. (Bzzz, bzzz.) But I managed to hold the beverage down for our enjoyable rendez-vous.

Next was a shopping spree with my mother and sister A. Her birthday is coming up and I bought her a jumper she wanted. None the less, that confounded bug cut that trip short. I fell ill, and my mother who was also tired, took me home where I spent the rest of the day, you’ve got it, resting.

I went into college today for a lesson, photocopied some notes, and now I’m back to my humble bed spreading the germs everywhere. (Ironic really, that currently in Biology, we’re studying ‘Pathogens and Disease’. Wonderful timing wouldn’t you say?)

That’s about it readers. Until next time.

P.S My last few posts (three to be exact) have been without quotes for various reasons. To make up for that, here are four quotes. Three as consolation and one for this post. I’ll even add a quirky comment for your amusement. (Assuming, perhaps incorrectly, that I do amuse you all.)

“Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the universe.” ~ Albert Einstein. (Kept me laughing for a while. I do love Einstein! Human stupidity really is a conundrum. We’re ruled by our ignorance. Sigh.)

“It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it.” ~ Charlotte Bronte. (Jane Eyre, one of my all time favourites. This quotes is so correct it’s almost mind boggling. We’re unable to endure boredom.)

“An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.” ~ Oscar Wilde. (Need I comment? Oscar Wilde is a god. A god I tell you. [If I get hit by a bolt of lightening, you all know why. Hopefully God will know I mean it metaphorically…])

“Everything’s got a moral, if only you can find it.” ~ Lewis Carrol. (Authors always have the best life lessons! Reading is educational in more ways than one, that’s for sure!)

So, okay, that title isn’t exactly scientifically accurate as Physics is pretty much essential to life. But for us non-physicists I think it works. This week’s writing challenge by WordPress’ Daily Post is to talk about a moment that changed the course of my life for good; a juncture in time that embedded itself so deeply into my soul, that it shaped that soul into what it is today, (and I’m still clueless as to exactly what that is). But which milestone to choose from? I’ve only known 18 summers, but I have had a lot of pivotal occasions in that space of time. The first, the one I’m considering basing this post on, was when I was 10. The next: 12, then 15-18 (I had many pivotal moments there) and now that I am almost 19, I am certain that there are plenty more to come. (Cue the ominous sound of a bell.) I still haven’t found myself. Sometimes, I don’t think anyone ever really does; surely, that’s why it’s called a “journey”? And the words “of life” indicate “until death.” So how does one find themselves if they’re searching until death? (Rhetorical questions for the win!)

Enough of the philosophy I guess. The most climactic moment in the history of my life would be the death of my father at the age of ten.

Wow, writing it down like that is almost the same as saying it out loud; I felt goosebumps all over my body. It was such a long time ago, and if he was still around, our lives, our characters themselves, would be so, so different.

My father was a wonderful man. Always happy: when I close my eyes and see him, I see that huge grin on his face that used to embarrass me when I was younger, when I did not know that one day, I would treasure it. Even now, when we look at photos of him, the one person that will surely be showing all of his teeth, is my dad. It’s rather amusing among the other morose faces, to be honest. Sigh. My silly, extraordinary dad. How we miss him. He was the one who held our extended family together: the cement between our bricks that formed a loving home. Now that he is gone, so are the people I grew up amongst. My aunties, my uncles, grandparents, cousins, all of them. They are all strangers. My mother and my sisters: that is all I know.

I still remember quite vividly the events leading up to his death, and I’m not sure how to tell it. In prose, or just simply stating the facts? I’ll let the keyboard do the talking.

Friday, I’d broken my finger. He’d done it accidently: pushing the sofa back against the wall, not realising that my stupid hand was there. He was so sorry, that he picked me up and hugged me. He hadn’t picked me up since I was 7; I’d deemed myself too old for cuddles. How wrong I was. He’d wanted to take me to the A&E then and there, but I refused, not understanding that my finger was actually broken, (in the defense of ten year old me, it didn’t hurt after the initial shock), and decided to give it at least until two days before we rushed to the hospital. (My broken finger still curses me for that decision, by the way). All that time spent waiting to heal something that could do the job itself? I, thought, not! (You thought wrong, says broken finger.)

Saturday, ah, Saturday, the last day we would see him alive. There was a wedding we would have to go to in a city close to ours the next day. To cut a long story short, we had family who lived in that city and after much deliberation and squabbling between my parents it was agreed that myself, my mother and my sisters would all go to stay the night at our relatives’ house. My father would join us on Sunday at the wedding where we would all go home together.

He never did.

As we drove off, we all waved farewell to our daddy/husband and as we turned our backs on him, I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach. I saw that my mother did too. She argued with him again, telling him that she didn’t want to leave him on his own. In the 12 years that they had been married, she never had. But he shrugged her off, insisting that my mother visit her cousin sister. She was her younger relation after all.

That night was strange. For some unfathomable reason, my cousins, my sisters and myself had been infected with a myriad of giggles. It just wouldn’t stop. Nothing could cease it. My aunt, who believes in old wives’ tales, said that it was a sign that something awful would happen… Naturally, we laughed it off.

Eventually, we were exhausted enough to head to bed. But I couldn’t sleep, restless. I was next to my favourite cousin; we talked all night. And what I said next, still haunts me. We discussed philosophy and religion: the might of God (pretty deep for a ten year old, right? I’ve always been awesome. [Insert cheeky wink here]). The words (in relation to God’s power and what he is capable of) “my dad could die tomorrow” actually left the cage of my lips. I actually said those words. How was I to know what would unfold from my ‘innocent’ musings? Not that I think that I directly caused his death just because I sort of prophecised it, but it’s something to ponder over in my quiet moments.

The next day started off as expected: havoc. Where are my shoes? Where’s her make up? Oh my god, it doesn’t fit! Oh, I need to tighten the elastic, sorry! How should I do my hair? Help me get ready! etc, etc. After many arguments and rushing, we finally made it to the wedding. It took us a while to find seats so that we could eat (our weddings are more like the reception parties of western culture. That’s asians for you), but once we had, we received the inital sign that something was wrong: my mother choked on her first morsel of food.

From that moment she wanted nothing but to return home, knowing something was amiss. She hurried our eating, making sure we were fed, but that we were fed quickly. As soon as we were done, she took us to the car and immediately began calling my dad. He didn’t pick up. Panicking, she tried the landline. Again, to no answer. By now, she knew something was truly not right, so she called her brother who lived a street away from us to check up on my father. She also called the emergency services. Up until that moment, my sisters and I didn’t know anything was wrong. It was when my mother started shouting for our door number to tell the paramedics (we’d only recently moved houses) that I realised all was certainly not well. Immediately we hastened into a car, my mother on the phone to her brother, asking questions, giving orders. That was when she put the phone down.

“He’s dead.” She said. Her voice sounded as hollow as the gonging of a bell.

Chaos pursued: everyone was arguing with her, begging her to take her words back, calling her a liar, praying, crying, becoming hysterical. All of this amongst the stony obmutescence that reverberated from my mum. It was her silence that rang the loudest.

When we got home, our mother ran out, demanding that we stay in the car. Time seemed to stand still until she came back. As she approached, the obdurate look on her face told me all. “Don’t you dare mum, don’t you dare say he’s dead!” I cried. She silently let us out of the car. I saw her sit on the curb to light a cigarette, unmoving, unresponsive.

There were wails in my house, women screaming their despair, (because of the wedding, friends and family reached our house quickly). Our living room window was broken, glass splayed on the floor (our uncle had broken it to get into the house), the walls singing of melancholy. They wouldn’t let us near our father. We were reduced to seeing his pale corpse on his bed amidst a sea of cries. We weren’t allowed to touch him. All too soon, the ambulance took him; my mother accompanying. The rest is a blur. We somehow ended up at my gran’s house. More wailing people, our mother nowhere in sight. I remember telling that very cousin that my dad was dead. He was DEAD. It was horrific to be honest. We cried ourselves hoarse and cried some more. My granddad passed out. I watched grown people sobbing. But my father was not one of them.

Eventually, night grasped the sky and the guests left us to our own gloom. It was time to sleep. My little family shared a room, and we all succumbed to the fatigue of our tears.

A new day, a new life.

(This photo makes me think of new beginnings, as the events led us to.)

On Monday, I remember waking up, thinking it was all a dream. Reality slapped me in the form of my grandmother’s bedroom. It wasn’t a dream and I began to cry afresh. Our lives changed forever. We would not be the people we are today, if not for his absence. Now it’s just us five women, living alone, away from them all. A new day, a new life.

Pivots: Physics can change your life.

(Well, that was a tad depressing [by tad I mean a lot] but I thought I’d succumb to a writing challenge. A challenge is always good, and this was certainly that! Until a more cheerful time, I bid thee, oh my wonderful readers, adieu.)

Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise? I’d like to give my sincerest thanks to the wonderful Lola-Ann, (does she not have an amazing name? So envious) whose blog(s) never fail to entertain me. Entertain is probably an inaccurate term; she keeps me checking for her posts though, that’s for sure! http://everythingsmorecynicalonpaper.wordpress.com Her link is there, check it out for an interesting read. She’s definitely in need of various opinions for her situation. Click the link for more! (I feel like an advertisement now, like those brochures where it says “[do this] for more information” et cetera, et cetera, but hey, Lola-Ann is worth it, trust me.) I’ve quite literally read my way into her life, and I genuinely like her as a person. You can tell a lot about someone through the way they write, (I guess that makes me a pompous, melodramatic twat) and in the case of http://everythingsmorecynicalonpaper.wordpress.com I approve! (Her link is provided again for your usage. I don’t hear that mouse clicking!)

So thank you my lovely!

I love each and every one of you that follow and like my pages. You all clearly have epic taste! [Cue cheeky wink here]. (Sorry!)

3. Share seven random facts about yourself. (Oh dear. I don’t even know myself. These shall be found below.)

Seven random facts about the author of Mortal Musings:

1. I’m not very self aware, as will become evident in the following six statements.

2. I’m a midget. A thousand years ago, penguins, (who were recorded to be a whopping five feet) would have been an inch taller than me. Great.

3. I absorb myself into books, I become the main character, and somehow empathise with them.

4. My quiet thoughts are either about the various happenings of my life, usually very deep and philosophical, or daydreams of different scenarios I imagine myself into, (in relation to the countless fictional characters from my books and television programmes). Currently, I daydream about a crossover between the BBC’s Merlin and Doctor Who. In it, I am the heart of the TARDIS (the Doctor’s true wife), trapped in the medieval era of Merlin, where I am both Morgana’s half sibling and also, previously the King’s ward. (Don’t ask about the logistics or the validity of this character. It’s a daydream, I’m allowed!) Unless something is plaguing me from reality, I think about the above scenarios to help me fall asleep. It works, I always wake up with an unfinished scenario. It’s quite frustrating, really.

5. As is obvious in the previous statements and posts, I am extremely strange and weird: in serious need of psychological help. Most people find it amusing and endearing. What is wrong with them?

6. I am a complete fictional harlot; in love with countless fictional characters, all at the same time. Too many to even list. (Such a five-lettered-bleep, gah!)

7. I’m undecided about my future. I’ve always loved the sciences, and I have always wanted to go into medicine. I know that if I worked, I would be capable, but I’m not very good with remembering scientific facts. At the same time, I love the arts: English and Writing, Languages, History, Religious Studies. These I am good at blindfolded. But what to do with these subjects? What career to follow other than teaching? Ugh, dilemnas.

It’s all a bunch of poppycock. Love, friendship, care, loyalty, respect, perhaps even decency. Hogwash. It’s all a thing of the past. It no longer exists in the world I live in. I wasn’t meant for this century. (Cue my psychic moment.)

Everyone, everyone, thinks of themselves first. For themselves. Everyone looks at actions rather than intentions. World War I was ultimately down to politics (I admit, I haven’t done my research properly. Someone do inform me if I’m wrong. Ignorance in this matter has no excuse.) A multitude of desultory deaths. World War II was to stop Germany’s invasion and to hinder the spread and continuation of Hitler’s regime. Both led to pointless deaths. The intentions, however, were different. But will the people in my life see that in ordinary things? Hell no!

If you have someone out there who cares for you and shows you that daily, cherish them, revere them, for they are a rarity upon this world. If you care for someone and always have that care reciprocated, do the same as above, for your relationship too, is scarce. And if you care for someone who always puts you second, walk away. Before you get your heart broken so much that it mimics the shattering of a glass into a million shards, tinkling away on the floor: irreparable. The breaking of a glass reaches countless ears, loud and angry; the breaking of a heart, much more fragile, is soundless and reaches no one.

I leave you on a sad note readers, but sometimes, reality just gets in the way, and cuts you as sharply as a fragment of a fractured piece of glass.